O'er the Scalding Lands
by Doublebend
Summary: Memories of the night before collide with his awakening - hot, heaving breaths and skin against burning skin, rocking his body until he unwillingly recalls waking up to his arms scrabbling for a body that is never, never there. GinHitsu dark, abusive!Gin


**A/N: This was written for QueenofCitrus' birthday, which I missed the deadline for by about a week! ...No, the fact that this is a kind of Dark!fic does not mean anything. I've just been on this urge to write crazy stuff recently is all. She's been so good to me, mentioning my other GinHitsu stories (which are terribly OOC due to the me liking crazy settings, again) and prompting people to read them, so I'll do the same here! GO READ _ALL _OF HER FICS. She's got IchiHitsu fics as well, and I guarantee they'll suit every one of your quirks and needs, so seriously. I highly recommend her to uke Hitsugaya lovers!**

**This story was supposed to be a reeeeaaaally long oneshot (or one chapter fic, or whatever) but then my iPod - I was using the Notes application, though I'm pretty sure writing smut fanfic wasn't it's intended purpose... - cramped up because of the size. So consider this first chappie as a sort of prologue to the ensuing events. The title and chapters probably has some obscure relationships to the story, but I haven't figured out what yet (i.e I made them up randomly XP), but feel free to let your imaginations run wild. I'm...actually kind of depending on that here, haha.**

**Disclaimer: Tite Kubo would probably be arrested if he made up a manga for Shounen Jump that is anything remotely like this. And I like to stay on the right side of the law (or at least where it can't find me). So.**

**Warning!: Contains abuse, mind breaking, promise of sex toys in later chapters, possible OOC, mild torture. Depends on what you consider mild, but since I'm determined to rope this into a happy ending eventually...**

***holds hand out for reviews, and beams***

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><p><em>Let It Burn<em>

Swallow. Blink. And raise your head high.

These are the steps he knows by heart by now.

The white expanse of the futon he kneels on, still in his loose night gown, is bright and empty in the morning light that bathes the back of his neck, and somehow he feels smaller with his legs tucked up underneath him. He trembles in the crispiness of the air, and not because of the emotions threatening to overflow and topple this precarious, almost non-existent balance he is barely clinging onto; swallow, swallow again. Memories of the night before collides with what he had experienced only a few moments ago – the contact between bare skins and the heat of heaving breaths are that more reminiscent and contrasting as he unwillingly recalls waking up to find his limbs flailing, fingers clutching at air and silky sheets to the right of him, searching for the warmth and solidity of another body that is never, never there. The sound of the morning bell is mocking in his ears as it tolls out the cold, unmoving truth of this new day to the rest of the world, and it reverberates in his head in time to every other heartbeat.

Ichimaru hadn't stayed, again. He should have been prepared for this, he should have quenched even the tiniest hope he held while he was being pounded into the mattress underneath, but with each throb accompanied by a flame that grew ever larger in the depth of his stomach and chest and mind, he found himself scrabbling for some kind of purchase on the firm chest rocking forcibly before him and wishing – daring himself to wish, for the impossible the dawn had failed to bring time and again. But he was so half-assed that he could not even initiate the move himself, because the fear of never meeting with the older captain like this again overwhelmed the need to ask him not go; the pleas caught in his throat and he struggled through the erotic whimpers and cries that had to be wrenched past his tonsils, as even his gasps for air were colored with ecstasy. Ichimaru never said it out loud, and to a casual onlooker it would never become apparent, but their relationship was destined to never get any closer than this. He knew that Ichimaru would leave if he made the slightest indication that he expected them to become a permanent thing.

He didn't know why the idea of attachment or commitment was such an issue with the man, only that he was expected not to cross this invisible (and yet, very conspicuous) line on the bed if he wanted the occasional nightly visits to continue. Before when he had been less inclined to make compromises, the treatment, if not the circumstances, had been worse; _he _was the one who made frequent visits to Ichimaru's room, and while that ensured him the other's "companionship" when he wanted it (which was as much as he could get), Ichimaru was never keen on letting him stay longer than necessary. As soon as their afterglow faded he would be hauled up by an arm, and sometimes dragged with his limpid legs trailing across the tatami to the door. He would not be given any time to clean himself up, so with semen splattered between his legs, stomach and around his mouth, he would be dumped out into the deserted corridors, onto the bare floor that was cold against his naked, heated skin, and despite what struggling he could give and the weak protests and (eventual) begging, the door will slide shut with a sense of finality that echoed in his ears. As the nights continued he came to accept this and Ichimaru's mindset on it, and started to walk out by himself with his robes bundled and clasped near his chest, to be hastily dragged on as he kept his ears perked for any approaching noise outside Ichimaru's door.

The next day he would experience the world reeling as he closed his eyes, felt gravity's effects on his slight body a little more than usual. Sometimes he wondered if that boniness he felt as he shrugged on his haori were his ribs through his skin, and it wasn't like he could talk to anybody about it when the shaking of his hands became apparent as he laid them on his desk to steady himself. Ichimaru, who came to seek refuge from Kira during one of his many escapades to skive off work, found him face down on his couch one afternoon, his own vice-captain having gone to deliver some finished paperwork and had not been heard from since.

"Hitsugaya-han?" he called softly, squatting next to where the boy slumbered.

When he received no reply after a second time, the fox-face gripped his shoulder and tried shaking him awake. With a splutter and a gasp, Toushiro opened his eyes, and looked confusedly up at the looming - who seemed to be able to do so without even standing - man.

"I-Ichimaru?"

The Third Division Captain gave him a small quirk of the lips in addition to the permanent curves, and brushed the loose strands hanging in Toushiro's bleary eyes with the hand he had been holding his thin shoulders with. "Sleeping through mah entrance isn't a very professional way ta greet a guest, is it?"

Almost immediately, Toushiro scrambled awake, and, clearly disorientated, made his way off the couch and to the small pantry behind his office. "Sorry," he mumbled, not in the mood to argue on many points including how Ichimaru shouldn't even count himself as a guest here when he was simply slacking off, "I'll – I'll get some tea, Matsumoto should have made some before she left – "

That he had not even wondered at the whereabouts of his vice should have been a sign itself of his deteriorating health. He stumbled on his way back and rubbed at his eyes, and Ichimaru's gaze followed him as he swayed on his feet when he set the tray on the coffee table. There was a fog before his eyes, obscuring his vision no matter how much he blinked to try and rid himself of it, only to clear somewhat when a stinging pain on his fingers made him yelp and reel in shock. He untangled himself from the teapot instinctively – thankfully it landed on the table the right side up – and had his strengthless legs carry him over to the sink, hissing as water ran over the redness the burn had left him.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to, I mean, I just wasn't looking – " he could hear himself babbling and didn't know why he _was_, but it felt natural and right to do so in front of that man; he couldn't believe how stupid he was to let this happen; he wasn't supposed to let Ichimaru know that he hadn't been himself the past couple of weeks, he wouldn't worry but he would blame Toushiro for not taking care of himself – he was _sorry_–

Larger hands took his and rubbed at the slight discoloring in the wetness, and he shook in surprise, catching himself before his knees went out on him. Toushiro knew his exhaustion was at his peak; he found it easier to lean forward against the counter and staggered when he had to reach up to turn the tap off, still nursing his fingers.

The solid warmth was still at his back when he decided he would not be able to move on his own for a while, and the slight scent of smoke – he didn't know where it was coming from, but it was nice – relaxed his muscles and let his head droop back. Strong arms did not encircle him and hold him steady as he would have liked them to, but held his body up by resting on the counter on both sides of him and trapping him between it and the torso, so it was second best.

"Perhaps –" a husky, deep voice that conveyed no particular emotions rumbled next to his ear. "It would be fer the best if ya didn't come anymore."

His eyes snapped open and he writhed – fought for footing and tried to turn, despite the lack of space between them he would remember forlornly when he was alone later. "Wh-what?"

A single eye appraised him from above, calculating and yet unreadable from there. "Look at yerself. Ya probably won't make the next trip ta mah place, let alone be any fun. I don't want ta come out and find ya collapsed halfway."

His mouth was dry. "But I – "

"Ya need ta learn ya limits," Ichimaru told him. "Rest fer a few days. Take some leave off work. And ya can't continue yer nightly outings."

Toushiro stared. "Then," he got out. "Then when would I see you?"

A chuckle escaped Ichimaru's lips, as though he somehow found something about this _funny_. "Are ya _that _desperate ta get some every night?" he asked. Toushiro still stared, his brain muddled, unable to process the words spewed into his face like it held no clarity. He just couldn't get himself to understand; it felt like something heavy and stifling had been drawn like a curtain across his mind, preventing him from accessing it.

Ichimaru saw this, and after a long silence during which Toushiro felt his eyelids drooping and his head nodding, he spoke again. Toushiro felt the arms beside him loop around his middle, holding him firmly to the other man's chest, and he relaxed gratefully into them without a second thought. The scent of smoke seemed to be clinging onto the clothes he was surrounded in right now; he breathed, deeply, and turned his head slightly to nestle deeper into them.

"I'll come ta yer room from now on. It doesn't really matter ta me where we fuck, so long as ya don't die on me or anything. Where's the good in that? But I have mah own hours to keep, and it's not like I need a healthy dose of fuckin' ta keep me going – unlike ya apparently. So things'll be up to me starting tomorrow. Got it?"

Toushiro didn't remember making any coherent reply, as his world took a nosedive into darkness right after and kept him submerged until he awoke in his own quarters hours later, but it was from then Ichimaru had started choosing his days on when to grace Toushiro, who was always waiting obediently on his already spread out futon or at his studying desk with a book open, or when not to. He wasn't sure if he would have consented with this decision had he had enough energy to stay conscious that day, but now that Ichimaru had apparently taken the matter into his own hands, he worried that disagreeing with the older captain would only displease him, even if his own routine was to be ruptured.

Sometimes he came on impossible hours, like when the moon could almost not be seen in the sky, hidden by the walls of Seireitei, and the sun was just about starting to prepare for its rise, rudely awakening the smaller boy from deep sleep and grinding without permission. Toushiro couldn't quite push him away in these moods, and instead focused on the ever present leer above as his own body steadily grew hotter and hotter, his muffled cries becoming more insistent with each rub his own precum slicked and lubricated, although his anus threatened to split and he almost swallowed his tongue when he was forced to take two hastily licked fingers in at once. At times like this Ichimaru liked to rush him first, have him struggle to catch up and meet the man's needs, before teasing – torturing – him; hold his (finally) hard cock by the base as he sank in slow, savoring the tightness and the feel of the rings inside grudgingly admitting his hardness entrance with the right, practiced push in the angle he had etched in his mind by now. He would comment now and then on how Toushiro was _squeezing_ him so deliciously, the hot flesh walls sucking him in like candy, pulsing and clenching and inviting him further up the boy's ass, and stroke at his belly where he imagined his manhood to be thrusted into now. He would reprimand Toushiro if he bucked, despite his pleas to be released, with a painful flick of fingers to his cock on his other hand, and ride him to closeness as Toushiro clawed at his arms and the sheets next to him, moaning and half-sobbing and _please please I need this I need to come, forgive me already, PLEASE! _until he pumped him in time with his last thrusts that went erratic and untimely before they both finished, his longer fingers digging in to the sides of Toushiro's pelvis that were sure to leave bruises on the flawless skin, but the boy himself couldn't bring himself to care because he was arching to the heavens and his voice was already dry and cracked from screaming.

He would, despite the whimpers, pull himself out from the still tight, slightly convulsing body underneath and wipe himself on the sheets Toushiro will have to bury his nose in afterwards, and if Toushiro hadn't succumbed to the blackness falling on him already he would have to watch, breathless, helpless, as Ichimaru dressed and left his room, as silent as a cat. And he would have to try and ignore the lingering smell of perfume that had been present ever since the older man had entered.

And yet he couldn't bring himself to suppress the rising _contentment_at the notion that Ichimaru had thought to come to him, to leave all these marks on him, even after having made love to someone else – and had not stayed with her, either.

_If he couldn't have him, no one can._

He dried his eyes on the white fabric at his sleeve. Swallow. Raise your head high.

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><p>His eyes were, luckily, not the type to stay red after a time, so he was able to commute and greet Matsumoto a little later than usual without incident. Up front he was his usual character; hard-working, efficient, cranky when the woman inconspicuously tried to add more to his pile from hers every time she leaned over to change his cup of tea. He was careful to let none of his movements show any sign of his actions the night before, although his hips ached in places it shouldn't and he constantly worried at the slightest shift of his clothes, having taken painstaking measures to conceal the bites. By lunchtime he had more or less gotten accustomed to the dull pain, and was able to conceal the winces as grimaces that could have been from the weight of the documents he had to heft off to the Third Division for confirmation.<p>

"I could carry that over by myself, you know? Captain," Matsumoto piped up from behind her own desk, where she was busily getting ready to hurry off to some luncheon restaurant as quickly as possible.

Toushiro rolled his eyes at her, and called over his shoulder as he made for the door, "If I don't see you fifteen minutes after the bell, consider your salary cut."

Dismissing the wails accusing him of unfairness and power harassment, he started down the corridors, steeling himself for the knowing, smug smile that was waiting for him (undoubtedly loaded with work still) at his destination. He couldn't risk blushing in front of Kira, who, really, noticed too many things than was good for him despite his timid exterior, and Ichimaru knew this too well. Which meant all the more entertainment for that _snake _to probe Toushiro in a way that only just fell short of conversing about which position they should try next in blatant light, and should Kira suspect enough to put two and two together he would end up with a quite detailed account of what had been transpiring behind Soul Society's back for quite some time now.

A clatter of loud giggles from around the corner pulled Toushiro from his fuming (he hadn't noticed he'd been doing so, and checked himself for getting worked up over something that couldn't be helped…at the moment), and upon realizing it was female voices chatting at the next bend he considered turning around to take a detour. He'd grown too wary of the women shinigami over the years, as the worst of them tended to possess habits ranging from stalkerism to practically stripping part of their robes to show off skin on their breasts and legs (Matsumoto didn't count, because she was, at the end of the day, just Matsumoto) for attention, which he appreciated even less due to the fact that he had been infatuated with a man some tens of years older than himself longer than the time any of the women ever knew he _existed_. But he halted in his steps when a familiar name reached his ears, one that made his heart jump to his throat and forced him to recall the night's events, and as he listened on, rooted to the spot, a horrifyingly sickening feeling sank into him.

"...been so busy, so I asked him! I told Captain Ichimaru that to commemorate our one month anniversary, I wanted to do something special for him! I invited him over – after work let up, I told him I'll be waiting in my room!"

Multiple giggles and excited squeals followed this, but one of the companions of the first speaker sounded skeptical.

"And he bought that?" a deeper woman's voice asked incredulously, her words laced with the tone of reprimand that made one envision a character of a type of self-independence. "I don't mean to doubt your new...boyfriend, however inappropriate it is, Seiko, but the rumors that Captain Ichimaru goes through his lady friends like the clothes in his closet don't quite give me an impression of a man who would care to spend his time celebrating particular days in a year, let alone a month."

"Well, I don't believe there's any truth in those stories," the girl – Yamaguchi Seiko, Toushiro realized, one of his own fourteenth seats – answered defensively, "or maybe he grew out of them. Anyway, he agreed to come to my room a couple of nights ago! I had my roommate bunk with a friend, just for the night, and prepared him dinner, and everything."

Another girl laughed shrilly. "He probably only stayed the night because your cooking rendered him immobile or something."

"Not true," Seiko said hotly. "He couldn't stay the _whole _night, because he skipped out of some leftover work to meet with me. I only learnt that afterwards, when – after everything, and by then it was almost morning; he must have kept it from me so that I didn't feel bad while we were – you know, making each other feel good." The tail end of her rushed words dissolved into high, embarrassed giggles, accompanied similarly by those surrounding. "But, you know – he was so gentle, and had this kind of restraint none of the men I knew before ever had. He'd check everything with me, and, like, ask me if I'm okay and stuff, like as though he cared more about me than he did for himself."

"Is that true? Well, then," said the friend who had laughed, sounding obviously impressed, "Gentlemen like that are a dying breed. You've hit the jackpot if you land this one, Seiko."

By the time the chattering had started up again, and the other girls clamored for more _details_on the events two nights ago, Toushiro had had enough. He stalked down the rest of the corridor, making sure to make the floorboards creak as much as possible and letting just a trickle of his reiatsu permeate the air to alert the women of his approach, so by the time he had reached the corner they were all silent, heads ducked, mumbling greetings as he passed. He was sure none of them had noticed he had been listening in, but his mind was too preoccupied with other matters than to really care about that.

Yamaguchi was a reasonable worker, he had read in reports, who was disciplined in the office but a little unreliable in combat, although she had obtained her shikai years before. But that wasn't much to hold against her, because it was typical of female shinigami to be sharp in the mental aspects of their work to make up for the physical ones. Bright, sensible, popular with her co-workers, her supervisor had written. Toushiro took particular care in scouring the performance reports of his subordinates, having experienced minor strikes and dissatisfying behavior in the past when he was just starting out, but she had seemed no trouble at all. He didn't know if what he had glimpsed of her face was what people deemed "attractive", and perhaps hanging around his vice-captain for too long had warped his sense of female body proportions, but she was petite and had a domestic air around her – the kind that soothed most tired men's souls when they came back from a hard day at work.

Still, he couldn't figure out what Ichimaru saw in her.

He wondered if Ichimaru treated all the women he knew – what was it again? Gentle and caring? – like that. He wondered, a strange feeling stirring in his chest as he did, why he was never asked if something hurt or if he was comfortable with having sex sometimes.

He wondered what he could do to get rid of Yamaguchi Seiko forever.

It was only when he stood in front of the Third Division Captain's office, feeling as though he had just walked through a trance, that he found himself shocked at the thought. He knew not to expect anything out of what he and Ichimaru had (the other certainly didn't, and he didn't quite know what to make of that) and that whatever Yamaguchi had been told (or, most likely, had not been) she was certainly unaware of the secret her lover and her own captain was carrying – two nights ago, Ichimaru had made another one of his brief, informal visits to his bed. Above all, he should not even be contemplating about using his status and power for entirely personal reasons. Shaking his head, Toushiro took a deep breath, and raised his knuckles to rap at the door.

He was surprised to find that Kira was nowhere to be seen as he pushed his way in with his shoulder, heaving the stack of papers in along. Ichimaru raised his head from his desk – where he was working diligently, for once – and grinned when he saw who it was.

"Toushiro," he purred eyes which always looked amused following him as he approached, and dumped the paperwork on his desk. "Such a refreshing sight after watching this barren scene fer hours." He gestured with his brush at the top of his desk, littered with the occasional paper balls and crumbs from a morning snack.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "While I'm pretty sure you'd have only half of that amount left to do if you'd actually stayed in the office yesterday, I'm also tempted to ask if it's going to snow any time soon, or something," he said dryly. "There must be some occasion I hadn't heard about for you to actually be sitting still without your vice-captain to guard you. Where _is _Kira, by the way?"

He was granted a chuckle as Ichimaru dropped the brush into more ink, starting a new page with fluid, smooth movements of his wrist. "Stomach flu," Ichimaru answered, almost too cheerfully, without looking up. "Looks like he ate something that didn't agree with his internal organs yesterday. And I'm not finishing these just fer that, anyway." His eyes flickered to Toushiro's face, immediately catching the younger's attention as hidden pale orbs watched for his reaction, and his voice dropped lower, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. "I was hoping we could have some fun together afterwards."

Toushiro felt his chest constricting, but on the outside he scoffed, looking pointedly away from the smug, all too knowing expression. "I have to train my seated officers tomorrow," he said to the floor. "I need to be in top shape."

"I'll go easy, then," Ichimaru said suggestively. "I'll even use proper lube."

His hand holding the brush had stilled and his gaze was never leaving the boy, and Toushiro nervously clenched and unclenched his fists, unable to make an immediate reply. He still could not rid himself of the image of his lover, whispering over somebody's – not his – ear and moving slower than he had ever seen on a bed. For once, Toushiro considered turning down the request, knowing deep down he needed some time to get over the new piece of information he had acquired earlier. He had not exactly consented with Ichimaru about his nightly habits and instead stayed quiet and watched, as Ichimaru picked his partners like apples on a tree, threw them aside when he was done, and repeated the pattern. He sometimes found out who these temporary lovers were both indirectly, like this time, and directly; apparently Ichimaru enjoyed watching his features contort with mixed feelings, usually lust and betrayal, when he purposely mentioned some of their names during sex.

But in spite of them, never before had he heard an actual account of their activities, much less of Ichimaru's behaviour when he wasn't present. Perhaps this was what this jealousy – and he had to admit it was jealousy, it was perfectly safe to do so, because who liked sharing? He knew he didn't – stemmed from, having been shoved a side of Ichimaru he had never been shown before under his nose and forced to compare between that and _his_ Ichimaru, made to see what he was missing and the impenetrable question of _why? _forever circling his head. Toushiro only knew he didn't like feeling like this, worrying that there were others out there who had such easy access to his older, attractive lover, who in turn seemed keen to block any advances Toushiro might make to delve deeper into his thoughts he guarded so carefully in secret.

Swallowing, he turned completely away from the desk, eyes darting nervously around for some way to deflect their conversation. The boy just couldn't seem to piece his mind together since overhearing the girl's conversation, and underneath the hurt and frustration that was steadily brewing even now as he stays in the same room as the fox, another unbidden thought was stirring, and it was the first thing that slipped from his lips the moment he opened them.

"Can you leave early today?"

He wanted to slap himself as Ichimaru's eyebrows rose, his lips curling all the more delightfully. The heat in his cheeks throbbed in embarrassment at the badly worded request. He didn't have to ask this. It wasn't as though he wanted to force his lover into indulging him like a girl – and he certainly wasn't trying to prove something. Toushiro simply wanted to see if his esteemed lover was capable of being as courteous as he had overheard (though what he should make of it was a different story altogether...) Yeah. Right.

He could still stop himself in all practicality, he knew that...just simply fob it off as another typical after-dark rendezvous...

But his mouth was determined to disobey his genius mind, and was already running off by itself.

"We haven't had time to see each other properly recently," he continued, rushing to clarify. "And, I've been thinking ... maybe I want to take things slow for a change. It's not like I mind what we usually do, but sometimes, it kind of feels...old, you know?" Toushiro glanced anxiously back at the man behind the desk, who had gone strangely still all of the sudden.

Blinking at the slight, almost indistinctive change, Toushiro blindly heeded the warning bells in his mind and struggled to make amends for whatever he had done. "I mean, if you'd rather not, if you're busy today then I really don't mind," he added hastily, flushing when he could hear his voice wavering. "I'm just saying, one of these days we could meet up for something other than...you know," he mumbled. Inwardly he sensed the change in the atmosphere of the room as he said those words, and looked over quickly through the corner of his eye at the man seated at the desk.

Ichimaru was quiet, his brush discarded and his fingers stapled in front of his nose where he had rested his elbows on the reflective surface of the polished, great mahogany captain's desk. Toushiro bit the insides of his cheeks at the unreadable expression on the uncharacteristically thoughtful looking fox, and tried to hide his startled jump at the sudden movement on his lover's side some seconds after. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor was surprisingly loud in the silence that had fallen on the two, as Ichimaru got up from his seat to walk slowly over to Toushiro. The boy captain had his feet rooted to where he stood, willing himself not to flinch as Ichimaru approached him and reached for him.

Blinking rapidly at the cool touch of long, thin fingers at his cheek, Toushiro found that he couldn't break eye contact with the taller male looming over him. Now that he was close enough he could see the orbs behind thin slits drilling into him with electric intensity, searching his own eyes, although he didn't know for what.

After long moments of staring at each other, just as Toushiro was starting to sense something aloof, Ichimaru's smooth, low voice washed over him and sent unbidden chills down his spine, interrupting him before he could question the man if he had said anything strange. The fingers had moved up to thread through his hair, tangling in them and brushing against his scalp ever so slightly.

"Are ya getting tired of what we do?" Ichimaru asked him quietly, his hand and eyes never leaving the suddenly alarmed look Toushiro was wearing. "Ya want a little diversity, is that it?"

Toushiro shook his head hastily, unable to comprehend why Ichimaru would question him like this. "I didn't mean that," he protested, wincing inwardly at the desperate undertone he couldn't surpress. He drew himself up, raising his chin higher to hold Ichimaru's gaze. "It was just a suggestion, you know," he said, not undefensively, "We could eat something other than cafeteria food for once, together, and just – just TALK for once. Not about work, not anything serious; simply to relax, alright? But if you're so against it, then don't bother –"

He was about to push Ichimaru away, but then the man's free hand had grasped his, and the splitting grin had shifted back to its rightful place, dispelling the tense atmosphere and Toushiro's building indignation almost instantly. "No need ta get huffy," he told the boy almost cheerfully. The younger stared at him for a second, taken aback at how abruptly he could change the mood, and then Ichimaru's hand was back to running through the snowy locks again. "I never said I wouldn't do it – if ya want ta, who am I ta deny ya? Ya only needed ta ask," his voice softened towards the end, leaning closer so his lips were moving against a suddenly hyper aware Toushiro's forehead and nipped the skin there in a brief kiss. He brushed back hair to plant more kisses where he could, and all the while Toushiro watched him from below, nervously, almost disbelieving of the words he had heard slip from those cruel, curled lips that tortured with an instantaneous heat as they ran across his skin, which vanished just as quickly when his lover moved.

"Really?" he asked quietly, because somehow his throat would not permit his voice to be emitted any louder. "You'd do this for me?"

A chuckle vibrated somewhere just above his eyelid, and he almost closed them to revel in the warmness that had enveloped him. "I believe it's called spending quality time. It's not as farfetched as yer making it out ta be."

The hand holding his had never budged; Ichimaru drew him closer to his own, broader chest as he urged Toushiro's chin to lift to an almost horizontal level as he closed his mouth over the boy's. Toushiro squirmed a bit, reminding the fox that they were still in an office with an unlocked door by a small dig in the ribs, but it was soon clear that Ichimaru was after a full-on make out session and he found himself going limp against the solid body pressed up to him. A tongue slid over his lips, wetting them, probing for an entrance he almost gave until he remembered that they had been in a middle of a discussion.

Toushiro pulled away reluctantly, and looked up at the older man. "I can't cook," he confessed, a little apologetically. Ichimaru laughed again, and shrugged.

"So? Neither can I," he grinned.

"And – and I don't usually go out. To eat. Only sometimes, when Matsumoto has a drinking party that includes captains and she makes me tag along to watch her outlast Kuchiki or somebody..."

"I know. I also know ya can't hold yer own alchohol very well either," Ichimaru told him, something like fondness flickering across his face. Toushiro squirmed. He really should have thought this through more...

"Then...then what should we – I mean, I..."

Ichimaru sighed, then leaned over to brush his lips over his lover's ear. The boy shivered, but let him. "Don't worry yer pretty head over this, Toushiro," he said into the smooth skin, and Toushiro could just feel the wide smile against it. "There's this place I've found, and I've actually been wanting ta take ya there fer some time now. I promise ya'd like it."

He reached out to touch the small boy's shoulder, taking a step closer in order to pull them together again. But Toushiro couldn't help mulling this turn of events over in his mind, and his body was stiff in Ichimaru's embrace. This was what he was worried about? It was true that he never completely revealed what bothered him to the man – a tiny, nasty voice told him it was because he was too wary of his own lover to show all of his cards – but it wasn't supposed to be this easy. He'd expected refusal, or hesitation at the very least – this was not what a man who snuck into his room at night to use his body could be capable of...

Perhaps Ichimaru had noticed his reluctance, because the next second the boy captain had his face captured by large hands on either cheek, staring up at an unchanging, amused expression mere inches away.

"Trust me, Toushiro," said Ichimaru. "Put yerself in mah care and then see."

The seductive quality in his words was the only prelude to the kiss he dropped on the half open lips of the boy, but it was chaster than its predeccessor and only sought to provide comfort to soothe any worries. Toushiro didn't know if Ichimaru was aware of the insecurities he had planted in the younger male, but it didn't really matter anymore as he was swept away by the unfamiliar care Ichimaru was taking in their kiss, as he eagerly participated now by pressing up into it, hands running up the other's arms to find the crook he grasped the black robes in, just a tad bit needy as he strained to pull Ichimaru down towards him. He knew that the fox knew this was the inevitable outcome; whether Toushiro agreed or disagreed – initially, that is – didn't count for anything in the end, because a few right words from the older and the boy captain couldn't care less what happened to him. He knew, he more than knew, he cursed himself for it at times, his inability to refuse Ichimaru _had to stop_, but other times, it wasn't so bad, this was what he wanted in the first place, where would he be without this warmth and weight even temporarily, what would he do with himself...?

They broke apart with a soft sucking noise, moist lips parted and allowing their warm breaths to mingle in front of each other's faces, eyes only on the other and locked there for an unknown time. Toushiro yearned to just give himself to those arms, to let himself be held with an affection he was rarely privy to, but a moment of pause brought him back to the world, and his rationality to their surroundings. He blushed, stepping away abruptly as though he expected somebody to walk in through the door any moment, crossing his arms over his chest huffily.

"If - if you insist," he mumbled, gaze averted from the undoubtedly smug man in front of him. "I'll make sure to repay the favour - some other time. Seeing as I was the one who brought it up."

Ichimaru, satisfied with his shaky answer for now, stepped back to lean on the head of the desk before seeming to have thought of something. Toushiro was busy working out at what time he could get off work that evening, when Ichimaru said something that made his throat tighten and his heart bounce rapidly against his chest.

"Let's spend the night at my place, Toushiro."

When the boy looked up, eyes wide with something like shock, Ichimaru was grinning so much his face could have split in two. The meaning of the invitation was as clear as crystal to the both of them – Ichimaru had not allowed Toushiro near his room since that day he had collapsed in the office. Toushiro could only imagine what he did in there anymore; the thoughts had made his heart clench in a way that sent a nauseating wave through his body. He'd chosen, like he had for all the other actions Ichimaru had taken which ailed his mind, to ignore it, and he had decided to avoid the matter with Ichimaru until something gave, until the time was right to bring the issue up. And now...

_Maybe he does understand_, Toushiro thought, and his heart danced at the wildness of relief and gladness the notion gave him. _Maybe he wants this – us – to move on as much as I do._

Something pulled at his conscience, warned him that another night together was pushing it when it wasn't what he had set out to obtain, but he brushed it away immediately. The tide had changed, and everything he had ever known was singing a completely different tune to ten minutes ago.

He breathed, and couldn't stop his lips from twitching into a tiny, soft smile that dispelled the frown lines from between his brows, and brightened his entire features just with that miniscule change. "I'll see you at six," he said, and left the third division's office with a nod, cheeks burning with elation.

So he didn't stay long enough to see the smirk twist on the fox's face, or hear the tuneless humming Ichimaru started up as he seated himself behind the desk again, or notice the pale eyes glint with a secret light, which promised a certainly entertaining night indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>I have a whole stack of doujinshis on my bed stand which look like they could collapse on my head while I'm sleeping if there was an earthquake or something. Hmm. I should probably move those.<strong>

**Alternatively (or additionally) I could also scan, translate, and post them on my LJ account once I win this feud I'm wagering with my scanner/telephone/fax machine, because there's not enough GinHitsu on the internet to go around with! I've already promised Queen of Citrus I'd finish the biggest one of them during the year, which happens to be "Kusabi" by Eve-sya and Tommy, and contains Aizen/Hitsugaya/Ichimaru (plus Grimmjaw in some parts), kidnap, rape, torture, toys, mind fuckery, tentacles, misuse os Kyouka Suigetsu, bondage, cosplay, forced urination, bukkake, footsey or whatsit, and basically every and any type of smut of dark nature you can think of. Doesn't that make you EXCITED? *wibbles***

**However, I'd have to ask those kind people who sent me positive reviews, favourites, alerts to be patient with updates of my other fics (as well as this one, for the matter...) because something is wrong with my bloody country as they seem determined to subject as students to as many exams every. Single. Month. I can't wait till I get into university, but to do that I have to get through this year...*sigh*. Well, I'm sure everything will turn out alright! Especially with a certain Hetalia backing my World History studies up. (My OTP is gradually turning into SpainxRomano. I mean, every one of them are just wonderful, but I have this thing for subcharacters...Although if I wanted a tsundere, USUK works just as well.)**


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